The Steward and the Queen
by Komillia
Summary: [AU] ...were you the blissful queen of Gondor, still I would love you. What if that really happened?
1. A distance there is

The Steward and the Queen  
  
by Komillia (komillia@telekinetic-orbing.net)  
  
Notes: This is an AU fanfic that I got the idea for when I read the chapter "The Steward and the King" in ROTK and Faramir telling Éowyn "...were you the blissful queen of Gondor, still I would love you." So I decided to write a fanfic about what would have happened if that last line had come true. Please read and review... I could use a lot of constructive critisim.  
  
---------  
  
She was walking in the fields of Rohan again. The morning dew felt cold against her bare feet. But a warm wind blew softly into her face and when she closed her eyes she imagined that she felt free... uncaged. This was the feeling she had longed for... the way it always should have been. No cage that trapped her, no heavy armor or relic to weight her down to submission.  
  
But the moment she opened her eyes a shadow fell over the green grass. The dew turned into sticky, fresh blood and in her hand a small dagger appeared. She stared at it and at the blood that now stained her white dress. Her eyes, full of shock and confusion widened.  
  
Then suddenly, a screech.  
  
So loud, so sharp that she fell back and covered her ears in an effort to spare herself from the pain. The dagger dropped from her hand and fell into a puddle of blood. She lay twitching on the grass, struggling to keep the sharp sound from her ears in vain. It was too much, too strong.   
  
She cried out in pain.  
  
---------  
  
Twitching and stirring, her eyes suddenly opened and she found herself looking up at the dark, shaded ceiling. It was familiar to her, for this was not the first time she had awoken in the middle of the night, haunted by painful and eerie feelings. Taking slow breaths, Éowyn closed her eyes and forced herself to calm down. Save for the quiet sound of rain against the rooftop, there was silence in the room. Comforting and safe silence. The screech was nothing but a terrible dream.  
  
'Nothing but a dream...' she thought to herself.  
  
But despite her effort to calm herself, the image of her own blood smeered dress lingered in her thoughts. Éowyn reached out her right hand, expecting find comfort and, if not that, warmth. But the only thing she felt were the soft but cold sheets. She turned her head to the right and despite the darkness in the room she saw that the other side of the bed was empty.  
  
She slowly rose, half sitting and supporting herself on her elbow. The right side of the bed had a cover carefully pulled aside and the sheets and the pillows were slightly wrinkled. Someone had laid there and then left. Judging by the coldness of the sheets, he had since long been gone. Perhaps he had not even slept at all.   
  
A sigh escaped from her, but whether it was out of frustration or loneliness she did not know. A familiar smell suddenly caught her attention and she looked up to see that the door out of the bedroom had not been entirely closed. He had not gone far. For a moment she contemplated simply waiting for him to come back and just going back to sleep. But she had no desire to return to the dreamland, not after when she had seen and heard in her sleep.  
  
Making up her mind, she pushed the heavy covers away from her and sat up on the bed. A chill rushed through her entire body as her feet made contact with the cold floor. Ignoring it, Éowyn quickly grabbed a robe that had been careless tossed over the back of a chair and slipped her arms through it. Adjusting the robe slightly, then she made her way towards the door and quietly opened it just about wide enough for her to walk through. She entered the sitting room and the smell that had first caught her attention was stronger here.  
  
And there he was.  
  
The room was only lit by the pale moonlight, yet Éowyn could see him so clearly. Sitting on the wide window sill, one leg draw up and the other down to support himself. He held a pipe in one of his hands and although the pipe was not in his mouth, she could still see the swirling forms of smoke rising from it. The rain that fell outside mattered not to him and he stared out the window, eyes either dreaming or reminiscing memories of the past. In the moonlight and in his plain sleeping clothes, he reminded Éowyn very much of the ranger of North whom she had first known him as.  
  
She took one step forwards, not sure if it was right of her to disturb him. Looking at him was like looking at a painting of a dreamer. He seemed so distant, so unreachable. Part of her wanted to leave him with his dreams but a bigger part of her wanted to share them, to know if she was a part of or even thought of in those dreams.  
  
"My lord...?" she finally said in a voice almost as quiet as a whisper.  
  
But a whisper was all it took to get his attention. Aragorn blinked and then slowly turned his head to his left to see who it was. Upon seeing and hearing his wife, it was as if he had woken up from a dream. The usual expression on his face returned but yet she could not figure out what was going on inside his mind.  
  
"My lady, why are you up?" he asked rather casually.  
  
Something in his voice told Éowyn that he was not asking out of curiousity or worry, but out of courtesy and habit. The next moment Aragorn went back to smoke his pipe. He didn't even look at her, instead he stared at a spot on the floor.  
  
"Should I not be asking you that question?" Éowyn inquired. "I woke up and saw that you were gone. The bed was cold... have you not slept at all?"  
  
She wanted to come closer. She wanted him to look at her and tell her what he was thinking about, for it had been a long time since she had last understood him. And at that moment, she started to doubt whether she had ever understood him at all. Thunder quietly roared in the background and the rain continued to fall. It was the only sound that could be heard in the sitting room, for she waited for Aragorn to answer her question and he did not. They stood there in silence for a long time before Aragorn finally spoke. Even then, he did not give her answers to the questions.  
  
"Go back to sleep now. You need the rest to recover from the loss."  
  
Those words struck her like a sword into her heart. Éowyn felt her knees weaken and she felt the urge to just let herself drop to the floor, for it felt as if she was bearing the weights of the past and the future on her shoulders. But she stood firm and did something but stare at Aragorn. He would rather sit alone in the dark rather than grieve with her. He did not want her here with him.  
  
Refusing to let herself cry or even start to, Éowyn turned around and started to make her way back towards the bedroom. Once she reached the door, she suddenly stopped and looked at Aragorn over her shoulder. He had gone back to staring out the window and he had returned to dreaming, looking not that much different from when she had first entered the room.  
  
It was at that moment, that Éowyn realized that the window Aragorn was staring out was looking westward.  
  
With a heart heavy and full of hurt, Éowyn quickly escaped into the bedroom and underneath the protection of the covers. There, she lay sleepless for the rest of the night.  
  
-------------- 


	2. Come in out of the rain, thou sayest

**The Steward and the Queen  
by Komillia **

Notes: Originally only half of this chapter was posted due to a writer's block I had at the time. After some time I decided to discontinue this story. I recently found the file again and saw that I had actually finished the second half of this chapter but not posted it. This chapter has now been updated and is completed, but unfortunately I have discontinued this story as I mentioned before. I apologize to everyone who was waiting for a continuation. Perhaps some day when I will get back to writing it if I reread the LOTR trilogy and find inspiration again.

* * *

****

Chapter 2: Come in out of the rain, thou sayest.

The thin curtains were slightly lifted by the soft wind, wavering and dancing in the greyness of the morning. Éowyn lay silently in bed and looked out the window, hair spread all over the pillow. The covers had been thrown aside long ago and lay in a careless mess on the floor. Although the cold air that came in through the open window did not feel so pleasant anymore, she did not feel like pulling the covers over her again. What was the use? They had gone cold and she would only freeze more.

Aragorn had left the bedchamber at first light. Perhaps he did not know that she had not slept at all because he left quietly. Had it not been for the shift of weight in the bed she might not even have noticed that he was gone. But then again, Aragorn always left early in the morning. A king had many obligations and duties and for the king of Gondor it was no different.

So there in the magnificent white bed lay the queen of Gondor all alone, cold and sorrowful. No tears ran down her pale cheeks but to one with clear sight no tears were needed to see the sorrow in her eyes. For hours she lay there, completely still, until the footsteps of the handmaidens were heard despite the closed door.

Éowyn slowly sat up in bed and then rose from it. She was not reluctant about leaving it, nor was she anxious to get up. Her feet felt cold against the hard, smooth floor but then again it was not that different from the bed. On her way towards the door she reached out to grab her robe but her hand found nothing but air. Looking down at herself, she discovered that she had forgotten to take the robe off yesterday. For a few moments she stood absolutely still, silently reflecting on what had happened last night. But those moments were short as the sound of footsteps outside her door brought her back to reality and she walked up and opened the door.

She heard five gasps the moment the door had fully opened and she stood there in the doorway. Five pair of eyes stared at her and five women were silent in fear that they had woken the queen of Gondor and that she had risen to unleash her wrath on them. Éowyn stared back and wondered what they were so afraid of.

_Am I truly that unpleasant to be with?_ Éowyn thought sadly and Aragorn once again filled her gloomy thoughts.

"Good morning, My Lady," one of the handmaidens greeted a little nervously. The others followed her lead.

"Good morning," Éowyn murmured just about loud enough for them to hear.

She did not need to say anything else. Within a few minutes a small table with food had been set and one of the handmaidens had braided her hair into a long and loose braid. Her fingers had accidentally brushed against Éowyn's neck and, upon feeling how cold she was, all the handmaidens had worried and fretted. All their worrying about nothing caused Éowyn to feel nothing but annoyance. It took her several promises that she was not feeling worse for them to start talking about it and leave her to eat her breakfast in peace.

But in her mouth the bread was tasteless and just the sight of the milk caused her to push both the plate and the cup away from her. The handmaidens all took one step forwards as if on command and looked at the hardly touched plate.

"Is the food not your liking, Your Majesty?" Gweridith, who had served Éowyn longest, asked. The look in her eyes told Éowyn that she was perfectly ready to send one of the younger handmaidens all the way back to the kitchen with any complains and return with better food. Éowyn simply shook her head and got up from the chair.

"I am simply not hungry today," she answered and walked away from them.

She stopped at the window where Aragorn had sat last night and looked out. The day was indeed grey, not just in mind and heart but also in sight. Clouds covered the sky and although they were light, they prevented sunlight from shining down. The White City looked grey. Grey like a stone prison.

A quiet sigh escaped from her as she closed her eyes. How she longed for the sun and the wind against her face. She longed for the never-ending plains of Rohan and to once again ride and walk against grass and wind. She found herself longing for anything that was beyond the confinement of the bed and stonewalls. Suddenly she opened her eyes and turned to the handmaidens.

"Please fetch my brown riding dress," she ordered with a sudden commanding voice. But she was met with a set of nervous glances.

"Riding dress?" Gweridith spoke, for no one else seemed to dare. "But My Lady, what..."

"I intend to go riding, is that not what a riding dress is for?" Éowyn responded rather quickly as she had started to tire of the handmaidens.

"My Lady, you are still weak and need rest!"

"I have had enough rest," Éowyn answered and did not care if she sounded like a spoiled child. "Will you get my dress or shall I do it myself?"

She was not met by a defiant answer but she could clearly see it in Gweridith's eyes. The elderly woman had been in the service of the former steward of Gondor for a long time and had clearly forgotten that it was as a servant she had served, not anything else. But she obeyed Éowyn's order and sent another handmaiden for the dress. The rest of the handmaidens scattered throughout the rooms, either to clean or bring the things Éowyn might need.

Éowyn stepped closer to the window, looking out once again. Yes, riding would lighten her heavy heart. It was a chance to escape for a while, to be left alone and out of sight of those whose company she did not desire.

"...who knows what the king was thinking..."

The words spoken were barely above a whisper, yet it was loud enough for the queen of Gondor to hear. She turned around and her eyes fell upon two of the handmaidens who had grouped together and returned from the bedroom where they had made the bed. Upon feeling their queen's glare on them, they stopped whispering and lowered their heads.

_Yes, what was the king thinking about?!_ Éowyn thought angrily and those words almost slipped out of her mouth. But instead she turned back to looking out the window, although her attention and mind were no longer on the subject of riding. What use was there to scold handmaidens who did not even have the courtesy to be quiet and keep the gossip outside her bedchambers?

It took time before she was dressed and ready to leave. Her riding dress could not be found at once since it had been so long since last time it had been worn. Furthermore, it took several discussions with Gweridith before Éowyn made it out of the chambers. Her decisions to go off alone and without any of the servants accompanying her seemed to shock them greatly and she lost count of all the protests she had to ignore.

"My lady, at least let us send for someone to accompany you..." Gweridith persisted as she followed Éowyn who was quickly making her way down the stairs. "...it will be better if..."

Upon hearing the word better, Éowyn stopped at the bottom on the stairs and turned around so quickly that her long braid swung to her side. The handmaidens all stopped as well, looking down at their queen and they did not speak. Éowyn stared at them gravely as she spoke.

"I am sure that was is best is for all of you to return to your duties. Go back to the kitchens and tend to others who are above you. It is where you belong."

Then she turned and walked away without wasting another moment. She could hear upset gasps and whispers behind her back, but at that time she could not have cared less about them. What she had said had been very insulting, even to servants, and she was aware of that. But the handmaidens needed to be reminded of who she was. She was a daughter of kings, queen of Gondor and the one who had slain the Witch King. She did not deserve to be treated like a sickly child who did know what was best for herself.

People continued to stare as she came out and walked towards the stable with haste. Some turned around in surprise. Rumours of the queen's health had reached them and they had not expected her to be up on her feet so soon. That she was alone without handmaidens or guards to look after her surprised them even more. Still, none of the citizens said a word or approached her, which Éowyn was most thankful for but the stares she could do without.

It did not take long before she reached the stables. The workers there were utterly surprised and shocked to see her there and protested rather wildly to her wish to ride today. But one harsh look from Éowyn and a simple sentence spoken with a voice of authority was enough to make them stop. They left her alone, to tend to and saddle her white mare as she had requested to.

She approached Lightfoot with a smile and murmured kind and loving words to her. Lightfoot had been a wedding gift from Éomer who had decided that no horse was good enough for his sister unless it was one from Rohan. It was times like these that Éowyn really appreciated his gift, for it brought back memories of her innocent and free childhood. How happy she had been, an orphan but with a loving family and so carefree.

Turning around, she spotted her saddle hanging in the exact same place as it always had. As she approached it she noticed how there was a thin layer of dust upon it. It reminded her so clearly of how long it had been since she had been to the stables. But now she was even more determined and quickly grabbed a cloth to clean the saddle. One thing she had not noticed was how long she had been standing with Lightfoot and that during that time a stable boy had been secretly sent with a message to the White Tower. Just as Éowyn was done and put the cloth aside, a familiar voice spoke to her.

"The clouds are growing darker."

Her heart fell upon hearing that voice and her eyes widened slightly in shock. She slowly looked up and did not know whether to sigh or feel joy at the sight of her husband standing before her. The king looked rather wrongly displaced in the stables as he was wearing a mantle that could only be described as majestic and the stiff royal air still surrounded him. Éowyn wondered briefly why he was there before she realized what had happened. She only needed to glance at the stable workers, who were now retreating to give the king and the queen privacy, to know that they had alerted her husband. Frowning, but not letting Aragorn see it, Éowyn turned around and walked back to Lightfoot with the saddle in her arms.

"It is likely that it will rain," Aragorn went on, thinking that she was ignoring him.

"Rain is no more than I can bare," Éowyn answered coldly. "I have ridden and lived through worse."

She placed the saddle over Lightfoot's back and started to fasten it quickly. The sooner she was done, the sooner she could get away from the white city and it's smothering stone prison. Aragorn did not say anything for quite a while. All he did was to watch her in silence, studying her and trying to find the right words to say. But because she had turned away from him, he could not see the expression on her face. He could only guess it and with guesses nothing was ever certain. After a long period of silence he finally stepped up next to her and spoke again.

"My lady... I do not question your strength."

"Do you not?!" Éowyn snapped.

How dared he say that? Questioning her strength was all he and everyone else had done for months. His words felt like lies and blows to her face. She turned around quickly, not wanting to face him, and attempted to walk away from him. Aragorn simply rushed to the other side, placing himself in front of her and in her way.

"No," he answered and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. "I only say that even the strong feel pain."

Despite her anger, she heard the gentleness of his voice and deep inside she knew that he did not mean to think of her as weak. Éowyn lowered her eyes, her mind wandering reluctantly to the place where it had been the last few weeks. Aragorn saw this and soon spoke again.

"Give it time. Your body is still weak and your heart in pain. You need rest."

Upon hearing the last few words, Éowyn felt the little calm she had left leave her to be replaced by the return of a rising anger. How many times had she heard those words and how many times would she have to hear them again before she could put an end to it? Enough was enough. She did not need more rest. Why was she the only one who could understand that? But this change of heart came too late to be voiced. As soon as she opened her mouth to speak, the sound of heavy footsteps was heard. A guard, who she recognized as one of the kings personal guards, entered the stables and fell on his knees before them.

"Your Majesties."

Aragorn removed his hands from Éowyn and turned to the guard, his full attention on him. Éowyn wondered briefly if Aragorn had even noticed her anger. If he had, he did not show any sign of it. She looked at the guard, who rose after receiving an approving nod from the king.

"Your Majesty, a message was delivered from the White Tower," the guard told and handed over a piece of paper to him.

Aragorn took the note and while reading it, his brow wrinkled and he looked concerned. After he had read it, he folded it and put it secretively in his pocket. Then he turned to Éowyn, who had not said a word in a long time but desperately wanted to. He took her hands and gave her a soft smile, thinking that the anger in her was no more.

"I must go now. Please, go back and get some rest."

How she longed to protest and throw a childish fit at that moment. To simply ride out of the caging stone city and feel the rush of freedom and liberating solitude. To ignore all bounds, duties and what people deemed appropriate. But the pleading look in her husband's eyes brought guilt to her heart and it seemed like staying inside until he could come back for a proper discussion was not such a difficult thing to do.

_Yes... I will wait until he comes back and then talk to him,_ Éowyn thought.

Once she and Aragorn were alone, she would talk to him and voice the growing concerns in her heart. She would tell him that how his distance hurt her and that what she needed was neither more bed rest nor his distance. And he would understand. He would make things better. It was with that kept in mind and ignoring a heavy heart that she answered him.

"I will," Éowyn answered quietly with a small nod.

A smile slowly formed on Aragorn's lips. He reached out his hand, took hers and placed a kiss upon it. Hardly a short moment had passed before Aragorn had turned around and left the stables along with the guard. Éowyn stood still, her eyes following Aragorn as he quickly disappeared out of sight. Despite how reasonable and calm she had been just a few moments ago her heart started to feel heavy again.

She had hardly felt that kiss on her hand.

* * *

The clouds did grow darker like Aragorn had said. Éowyn sat alone by the window and watched those dark clouds with a silent longing to be outside. Hours had passed since she had return to the chambers and although they had not been many, they felt long and endless. She had spent those hours doing very little. Despite what Aragorn had said she had not gone back to bed. But sadly, except for that there was no much to do.

The handmaidens provided little company as they had been deeply insulted by what Éowyn had said to them. They still carried out their duties with perfection but their faces were grave and ill wishing. But even if they had not been angry with her she would not have turned to them for company. She felt no sense of loyalty coming from them and confiding in them would be no different than confiding in a stranger out on the streets.

So it was with wistful sighs and a growing heaviness in her heart that she waited for Aragorn to return. But hours passed and though she knew that it was out of boredom that time dragged on it took a long time for Aragorn to return. As she got up from the chair, letting a cold quilt drop from her lap to the floor, she sighed again and started to pace back and forth. Sitting and waiting was never something that she had liked and even now when she had learned to tolerate it a little it still frustrated her.

Needles and embroideries were put aside as the handmaidens stood up as well, acknowledging the queen's frustration. But Éowyn took one look in their eyes and understood that they did not see her frustration with pity or compassion, but rather with irritation as if looking at a child who wanted to go outside and play when not allowed to. It was behind polite and proper facades that they, and what seemed like everyone else, tried to hide this but to Éowyn it was so clear that she wondered why they kept on trying.

"Your Majesty?"

Éowyn turned her eyes away, not wanting to look at them.

"Do not mind me," she spoke gravely. "I shall rest for a while... and I do not wish to be disturbed unless it is the king himself."

Without waiting for an answer she walked towards the bedroom with quick steps. Once she was inside and alone, she felt some of the heaviness wash away. It was not much, but being able to be alone in a room was enough. She did not intend to sleep or rest, but simply sit and wait without feeling watched every single moment. She sat down on the bed and waited.

The next thing she remembered was waking up as talks and noises had disturbed her. Éowyn rubbed at her eyes gently, wondering how long she had been asleep. One look through the window assured her that it had not been long and that it was only late afternoon. Turning around, she looked around the bedroom and hoped to find any kinds of sign that would tell her that Aragorn had come in. Although there was a possibility that he had left her alone to sleep if he had entered the room, deep in her heart Éowyn knew that he had not come back yet.

"...they say she ran all the way to the stables without an escort..."

"Hush! You will wake Her Majesty!"

Upon hearing those voices again, Éowyn's eyes immediately turned to the door. She had forgotten to close it properly, which was why she was able to hear them. The moment she heard herself being mentioned she started to make her way to the door. She walked slowly and light footsteps, fearing that those outside her bedchamber would cease their conversation if she made her presence known. The opening of the doorway was too small for her to look through but she put her ear near it in order to hear more.

"She is fast asleep, I looked a few minutes ago."

"Anyway, that does not surprise me. They say she used to dress in a man's clothes..."

She heard gasps. Three of them, to be exact. The handmaidens were talking about her again, despite how Éowyn had caught them earlier that morning. Her hand curled into a tight fist, knuckles paling into white and her short nails digging into her skin.

"...and ride with the men instead of staying at home!"

This was followed by a hushed fit of mocking laughter. Éowyn closed her eyes and tried desperately to calm herself by taking slow and deep breaths. Her fisted hand was starting to hurt but compared to the raging anger she felt it was nothing. She felt suddenly felt warm and, although it was not in the comfortable and safe way, after a while she did not feel like resisting it. What stupidity could possess her handmaidens to talk so disrespectfully of her? In her very own chambers, when she was in hearing range.

She took one more look through the open windows, felt the rush of cold air blowing through them and could not find the strength to stay anymore. The kind of peace that she so desperately sought could not even be found in her own chambers, not even for a second. Thoughts of staying inside, locked and trapped suddenly became unbearable. Éowyn rushed to the door, opening it quickly to make a fast run through the chambers and then out. But what she had not noticed was how the voices had gone silent and how the other door to the chamber had been opened and closed once.

As she took the first step outside the bedroom, she found herself standing face to face with Aragorn.

Moments of complete silence passed between them. Éowyn stared at him in surprise, wondering how and when he had arrived without her noticing. Aragorn watched Éowyn in surprise as well, for he did not expect to see such rage in her eyes. They both stood there staring, before Éowyn in anger and frustration backed into the bedroom and slammed the door shut between them.

Once inside again, she slowly backed away from the door and buried her face in her hands. She felt slightly ashamed of resorting to such childish acts as slamming doors but at the moment it was the only thing she had thought of doing. The door opened behind her and as she lowered her hands she heard him speak to her.

"Éowyn..."

Not a hint of anger in his voice. Just hesitation and caution, as if he was approaching an animal that he did not know would attack him or not. Éowyn found herself silently cursing him for being there, for not arriving when she had waited but when she had had enough of waiting. All plans of discussing her feelings with him in a calm manner were since long forgotten and all that was left was anger. Anger towards Aragorn, towards the handmaidens and towards everyone else in the world who opposed her.

"I am not a sickly child," Éowyn answered harshly, knowing what Aragorn probably thought of her. "I do not need to be smothered and trapped inside this..."

She could not find the right word to describe it. Aragorn slowly walked up to her and put his hands on her shoulder, hoping to calm her.

"I know you do not, but..."

"No!" Éowyn cut off, shocking herself with the sudden outburst.

Without thinking about it she shrugged his hands off her and walked past him to the other side of the room. It felt strange, so strange that she had done that. Was it not his nearness that she desired and sought? Yet she did not want to be near him. Her heart was pounding madly, still in anger but also confusion as she realized how her wish had now changed.

She did not want to be near anyone.

It was with that sudden revelation in mind and heart that she very suddenly rushed out of the bedroom. She cared not that Aragorn called out her name and did not stay long enough to notice the shocked expressions on the handmaidens and the guards that had followed Aragorn. It was as if she ran to escape for her life and nothing stopped her. Not the startled guards outside the chambers, not the servants and no one at all. Those who thought of stopping her quickly changed their minds, as some had witnessed or heard the queen ordering her own handmaidens not to follow her earlier that morning.

Every step she ran was one step further away. She did not even stop when she had left the White Tower and breathed the fresh, cold air. The streets were almost empty, as most people had retreated indoors out of fear of the dark clouds and the rain that might come. Those that were still outside were too busy with their own affairs to recognize who she was. Still, she ran through dark and narrow alleys and took paths where no one would see her. Although she was far from the White Tower now, the fear of being caught and taken back frightened her.

She did not want to go back.

A rather small part of her reminded her of how childish she was. To literally run away from her problems instead of telling Aragorn about them like she had planned to at first. But it was only a small part of her and the rest of her screamed and demanded that she would run faster and further away. The thought of having to return, to be treated like she had been for the rest of her life was far more unbearable than the fact that she was acting childish.

But the sudden sound of heavy footsteps startled her and Éowyn looked over her shoulder to see a guard walking calmly down the street. Her eyes widened slightly and she quickly dashed around the corner of the nearest building to avoid being seen. Praying that the guard had not seen her, she dared to lean forwards a little and take a look from her hiding place. The guard had stopped and was looking around, as if he had sensed that someone was hiding. Éowyn pulled back, heart pounding in fear and praying with all of her heart that the guard had not seen her.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she heard the sound of his footsteps again. But the footsteps grew silent after a while and she knew that he was gone. She sighed in relief and leaned against the wall of the building. As she stood there, breathing heavily and with red cheeks, she wondered where she would run. There was no other place she could go to and escaping the city was out of the question. Suddenly it all seemed hopeless, as if she had pressed herself through thick bars only to be held back by even thicker ones.

It was at that moment, for the first time in weeks, that Éowyn felt like she was about to cry. But the feeling was stalled as she looked up and caught sight of what was right before her.

The gardens of the Houses of Healing.

She had almost forgotten that it existed. The place where she had spent a brief amount of time recovering from her injuries after the battle at Pelennor fields. The gardens, where she had walked and wistfully looked to the east, were right before her. Slowly leaving her safe hiding place, she walked towards the garden. The gardens drew her like a moth to light but if there was a reason behind it she did not know or think about it.

The wind blew softly, rustling the leaves and raising Éowyn's now unruly hair slightly. As she entered the gardens, she was almost startled by what she saw. Everything was of soft but warm colours in the gardens, different shades of green, yellow, browns and red. Everything from the smallest straw of grass on the ground to the highest and most vibrant tree. Nothing was grey in the garden except for the few stone benches and the buildings in the distance.

Leaves on the trees rustled again. Just the sound of it was enchanting and soothing. Éowyn sat down in the grass, feeling the grass straws between her fingers. The first raindrops fell on her hand but she did not rise. Instead, she seemed content with staying exactly where she was, sitting there in the gardens.

"Not many come here anymore."

The voice spoke suddenly, yet for an unknown reason it did not startle Éowyn. It was gentle but also familiar. Somewhere deep in her memories she had heard that voice before, during those days she had almost forgotten about. Éowyn turned her head to the left, which was where the voice had came from, and looked in curiosity. A leaf dropped from a tree as she saw who had spoken to her.

It was him. It was truly him. At first she doubted herself and wondered if both eyes and ears were deceiving her. But the longer he stood there, looking at her, and she looking at him, the more she realized that he was in fact real and there. Times had been dark and long since she had last seen him. Slowly, he had drifted further and further away as she had entered a new stage of her life. He had drifted until he was both out of sight and mind. But now he was standing right there, not too far away but not too close.

Faramir.

* * *


End file.
